


One moment at a time

by DarkShadeless



Series: Just a step to the left [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Force bonds and their pitfalls, Gen, Sith Culture, The Dark Side of the Force, my usual shenanigans, mysteries and secrets, the Force being unhelpful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-01 22:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Returning home is sweet but easier for some than others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I think we have officially left the crack zone. How did this happen? (and when?)  
> Anyway. Welcome back! I’ve managed to wrangle some more plot into compliance, though I’m still struggling with a few aspects a little further down the line. We shall see.  
> Have fun! I certainly did (and still do).

 

 

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_\-    The Jedi Code, source unkown  
_

 

 

 

Jedi life wasn’t all fun and games.

 _Especially when you’re on the Council’s bad side,_ Vorin grumbled to himself. Not aloud, because he wasn’t an idiot. His not-punishment detail was annoying enough, though it was barely a slap on the wrist. A measure of ‘assistance’ with his ‘dire need of a soothing environment’ so he may ‘meditate on his recent lapses in self-control’.

He really didn’t want to deal with anything more boring than they were already assigned to.

_Ugh. Archive backlog duty._

“How do you always drag me into these things?” The whine in Kerum’s voice was undeniable and Vorin couldn’t even _enjoy_ his griping.

They had been slogging their way through not-really-sensitive-but-still-classified reports for weeks, picking out the minor corrections that needed to be made to the Temple data bases. ‘Rivolis Minor’s summer has warmed by an average 1.5 standard degrees as compared to the last estimate.’ Things like that. Riveting stuff.

If this went on much longer Vorin’s brain was going to leak out of his ears.

On the plus side, he got to see his Master every time Gnost-Dural took the time to come by to pretend to commiserate with them and silently laugh at his former padawan. You had to count your blessings.

_This is what I get for cursing out two members of the Jedi High Council._

In hindsight he could have been a bit more… diplomatic. That would have been a good idea. Not that Vorin had changed his mind on the matter, but one had to choose ones battles. Or rather, how to wage them. Really, he could be glad they had done so well on their recent, _highly stressful_ mission or the fallout might have been worse.

For all that it was boring as shavit, it _was_ meditative in a mind numbing sort of way. At least they were home.

_Yeah, could be worse._

 

 

* * *

 

_This really could be going better._

Once more evening found Master Gnost-Dural in the bowels of the Archives. There was nothing for it. What he had been seeking since his disturbing revelation in the wake of their negotiations with the Sith could not be sought in broad daylight, when his aides and Jedi visitors alike bustled in and out of his domain.

The vast library of the Jedi Temple was a marvel but some knowledge wasn’t meant for the unprepared. Such a thought went against every fibre of his being, yet he couldn’t deny the truth of it.

All Darkness may ever need was a hook, an opening no matter how small.

Only two of the three holocrons that allowed Jedi controlled access to the incredible wealth of information their Order had amassed were accessible to all who came to his domain. The third, the Noetikon of Secrets, was kept in seclusion for very good reasons.

It could only be consulted if a cross-reference brought up its specialized knowledge and with his own approval. Most Jedi were barely aware of its existence, much less what it contained: The full index of all things pertaining the Dark Side their Order had ever come to know, guarded by the Force impressions of those that had fallen and managed to find their way back.

He was spending far too much time in their company lately. Not that they weren’t respectable Masters, in their own right, but…

“Back so soon?” Master Chamma’s projection displayed gentle, sympathetic amusement.

The Kel’Dor heaved a sigh. “Indeed I am.”

“It is unwise to spend too much time dwelling on the Dark.” Chamma paused, taking a look around. “Especially _in_ the dark.”

“He is right.” Master Bastila Shan had less qualms about simply tearing him a new one about his newfound habits. Refreshing, that. At his age and in his position he rarely was made to feel like a misbehaving youngling anymore. “Turn away from this path. It will bring you no fulfilment and little gain for great cost.”

Master Gnost-Dural had heard that lecture these past few weeks at length. Her caution was appreciated, considering the subject matter. Still, he wasn’t actually a youngling anymore. If there was even a scrap of information to be found about the Sith that he hadn’t yet perused he had to review it-

But they had done that. It had gone nowhere.

Despite her misgivings Bastila had been a great help, especially with her personal experience. They had all been. In the end their search had left Gnost-Dural with just as much questions as before, if not more.

He wasn’t here about them, though, not today.

“Thank you for your wisdom, Master Bastila. Something else has come up. I am here at the request of the Grandmaster.”

“Already? Didn't she return just recently?”

“Yes.” Master Gnost-Dural ordered his thoughts and released the lingering wisps of emotion that clouded his memory of today’s emergency session of the Council. It had been unpleasant, to say the least. “She brought home a few… complications.”

An understatement, if there ever had been one. Slowly, neutrally as he could, he detailed what had occurred to the best of his ability. The session had been a closed one. If anything, the impressions of the Masters before him would have access to vague references in need of a Councillor’s code to retrieve more.

The Kel Dor could give them that, so they could compare his own view with the logs. Later. It might be helpful to have a second opinion on whether or not he was emotionally compromised concerning the matter. The topic was explosive, to say the least.

He had gone to the Council chambers today expecting an in depth report on the conference on Alderaan, which, arguably, was what he got, however the outcome of the negotiation had taken an understandable backseat to the circumstances. It was in the hands of the Senate now to decide the course of the Republic. What the Jedi Council very well had to discuss once more was their stance on collaboration with the Sith.

That and the _other_ thing that had cropped up that was their purview.

“A Force-willed bond? And to a Sith apprentice?”

“Yes, Master Chamma. Unless it was prefabricated somehow,” which was _possible,_ if not likely. No one had known the girl would be there that day. She had been discovered by Master Karr just hours before. "Initiate Jaesa Wilsaam bonded to that boy without outside assistance or formal training. She’s eight standard. A human eight standard.” Too young for such a massive undertaking to be a conscious effort.

For a bond to truly take root, barriers had to be lowered that even an untrained mind would hold on to instinctively. You had to leave your very self open to another. Gnost-Dural knew master-padawan pairs that had trouble reaching the depth necessary for a training bond, if they bothered with it. Such was not nearly as deep as what the healers had found in young Jaesa’s mind.

_To think a Sith might have been able and willing to reciprocate that…_

If it _wasn’t_ a manipulation that was the only possibility. He could understand where Grandmaster Shan’s theory about the boy’s possible Force-determined future was coming from.

Force bonds were a grey area. On the one hand, they could be willed by the Force, as empirical evidence proved beyond a shade of doubt. On the other, they inevitable brought attachment with them that could cause great conflict in the Jedi involved.

As a being fond of philosophical debate, personally Master Gnost-Dural encouraged the question of whether that made such connections proof that the Force wished for them to care. Attachment was dangerous, obsession the path to the Dark Side, but where would they end up if they did not allow themselves any commitment, that may very well cause or be caused by emotion, to the galaxy at large? The Republic, the Order itself and their duty bound them. It would be foolish to deny that, in his opinion at least.

Master Bastila’s frown was very troubled indeed. “A link like the one you describe can bring one back from the very heart of the Dark itself but bonds go both ways. She carries a great burden if what you say is true.”

_I was afraid you would say that._

She would know, better than most. In life she had been the one in need of such a rescue.

“A harsh path for one so young.” Master Chamma bowed his head. For as long as the Kel Dor had had the pleasure of knowing him, he had been nothing if not compassionate. “Especially considering the situation in its entirety. The Grandmaster believes the boy shared her vision?”

“She does.”

The last of the three impressions, that had been silent until now, spoke up in a measured tone. “You have come to us to see if we can help you make sense of it.”

Master Gnost-Dural gave the man a small nod of acknowledgement. “Yes, Master Altax.”

“Would the Noetikon of Light not be better suited?”

Indeed, the holocron guarding their spiritual knowledge should have been his first stop and in a way it had been. “Grandmaster Satele conferred with it personally but a reference came up that I wanted to investigate.”

But they should know that. The holocrons were interconnected, if one was accessed, all knew.

Where both Bastila and Chamma were frowning in consideration of what they had heard, their colleague's expression was carefully blank, Gnost-Dural noticed.

It had to be personal knowledge, then, not an archive entry. Little wonder the Masters of Light hadn’t been able to help.

“You know what I am speaking of, don’t you?”

For an endless moment the projection of the venerable Jedi Master returned Gnost-Dural’s searching look stone faced. In all his time as a keeper of the Archives, this had never happened. No holocron of the Jedi had ever held back information, even this one.

_Not that I know of._

Wasn’t that an uncomfortable thought. Before he could follow it any further, Master Altax sighed. “I have an inkling.” With an unhappy slant to his mouth he continued, “You are aware that when I lost myself, unlike my esteemed colleagues, I stayed rather lost for a while, with my full knowledge and consent?”

Actually, he hadn’t been. _It answers some questions, though, doesn't it?_

The Kel Dor had to admit he had always wondered why there so little was recorded about this particular Master’s life in the Archives. To be imprinted onto the Noetikon of Secrets he had to have been a person of note, a person with a _history_. Now it looked more than likely that it had been erased, or buried deeper than he had ever managed to dig. An unpleasant reality he had stumbled across before.

Never let it be said Jedi were immune to shame, or the need to hide away the fallibility of their brethren.

“In that time, when I strayed beyond the reach of the Order, I met a man known as Lord Azule. His full name was Tir’Azule al Thum, though our official records do not reflect that.” Master Altax crossed his arms and stroked his beard pensively. Incidentally, that allowed him to avert his eyes.

“I’m sure you can see the parallel. It is no coincidence. I heard him use the exact wording Master Satele described once, in relation to his ancestry, ‘I am a child of Thum’en’Ka.’ By his own words that title referred to the founder of his bloodline.” His reticence slowly fell away, leaving faint sadness behind. “I’m afraid there is little more I can tell you. He was deeply traditional and never shared family secrets, even with me. I hope it does not disconcert you that I kept what little he told me to myself out of respect for his wishes. This is the extent of what might help you.”

Not ‘the extent of what I know’. This was starting to sound like a rather personal connection. _A friend?_ Gnost-Dural resolved he would have to unclutter his mind once more if that notion seemed impossible, yet was. If there had ever been a shade of doubt that this Master was loyal to the Order he would have never been chosen for the position his imprint held even today.

His next meditation would be… interesting. “My thanks, Master Altax.”

“You are quite welcome. I do believe Tir’s line has persevered to this day. You might find your answers there.”

Well, a hint was better than nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _A hint, my robe-clad behind._ Gnost-Dural reflected that he should finally learn not to ask for that which he did not wish to receive. The Force provided and it did not play around.

Tir’Azule’s line might or might not have continued unbroken, their records were a little spotty on that front. However, once he put aside common human naming conventions and sifted through the Archives with modified search algorithms, that would have driven a lesser man to tears, he found the breadcrumbs he sought.

It was slow going work. _Here_ was a mention of someone with the suffix, _there_ they had a sibling, a spouse, a child whose name remained a mystery. A hundred years later what he sought turned up again, so it must have been inherited after all.

Master Gnost-Dural did not mind the drudgery. It was work like this that had always been his greatest strength and joy. To puzzle out the truth that hid in the pieces was magical.

The unpleasant part was following the hints of the family branch of Shunka’Jol’Nir, idly wondering why her name had three parts instead of the apparently traditional two, and end up staring at an all too familiar set of glyphs.

_Oh. Oh dear._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Darth Andra?” Satele wished she could claim to be surprised. After the revelation the Force had seen fit to gift her with, when she had been past the chance to act on it and keep the Republic from plunging straight back into war at the same time, she had all but expected it. Everything was connected, as her old Master used to say. It was just a matter of finding the thread.

Despite his mask and goggles, Master Gnost-Dural looked remarkably like a man wishing he had better news. Or a strong drink. Maybe both. “That is where my search has led me. The only other person I could confirm as a possibility was her sister, who disappeared years ago. Considering Andra’s own miraculous return from those we believed deceased, she might yet live but… Satele. You said you thought you knew the woman.”

She had. A familiar voice, never before heard so solemn.

Satele closed her eyes and let the memory fill her mind. Now that she knew what to look for it was easy to recognize. She had only spent weeks in her company, after all, arguing back and forth.

“How did I not notice?”

The Kel’Dor chuckled self-depreciatingly. “I have recently come to realize that the best way to overlook something is to believe it's impossible. You asked the Force to show you a way to ensure the safety of our Order. Why would it lead you to a Sith?”

 _And to think she had been so close. To think-_ Suddenly, with the clarity of hindsight another possible link blossomed in her mind’s eye. It almost stole her breath. _Oh no._

“Satele?”

Staring at her tea, unseeing, she swallowed at the vastness of that missed chance. “It might not have been about her. Such things are rarely so straightforward, aren’t they?” Her vision quest to Tython certainly had been filled with hints and vague feelings. 

Ever so slowly, Master Gnost-Dural put his own cup of tea down on its saucer. The chink of simple stoneware was loud in the silence of her quarters. “That is true. You think-?”

“Her grandson. If your findings are correct he would quite literally be a _child_ of Thum’en’Ka, wouldn’t he?”

They both took a moment to consider that unpleasant possibility.

She should have gone looking for answers sooner. For good or for ill, Aki was well and truly out of the reach of the Jedi Order.

 _And if you had suspected this, what would you have done? You could do no differently, for the Republic as a whole._ It was undeniable that the Empire had the power to destroy them all. The war could not be won, not as things currently stood but it could certainly be lost. Across the galaxy, billions of lives hung in balance.

_Have I bought the present at the price of the future?_

The Force was quiet on the matter. Now that she could use some answers there were none to be had.

Satele steeled herself and let the recriminations go. “What is done, is done. We can but move forward. The Force will guide our steps, as it ever has, and all will become clear in time.”

Her guest inclined his head to her faintly. “Well said, Grandmaster Shan.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Much as he enjoyed being back at the Temple, with no immediate deployment to a warzone in sight, Vorin couldn’t deny the downtime he had been prescribed was necessary. Their last mission had left its mark.

He was… struggling, in some ways.

“Hey, I’m getting dinner, you coming?”

“Nah, I’ve got stuff. Catch up with you tomorrow?”

Kerum eyed him sceptically. “Whatever you say.” His partner knew him well enough to tell he meant ‘If you turn into a recluse on me I’ll drag you out.’

Vorin manfully suppressed a wince. He... might have made a habit of sneaking off whenever he could manage, lately. It was for a good cause! That was his story and he was sticking to it.

No question what he would have to listen to once Kerum found out what he was up to. The Zabrak could be a little hide-bound.

_Or Code-bound. Whichever._

His friend would tell him that they had done their duty, they had gotten Jaesa here and that she was in good hands. Time to let go. She was going to be fine.

No question about that, but it still hadn’t felt right to drop her like a hot potato. Just until she felt better about… everything.

_Yeah, right._

Vorin was getting attached, like a moron, and he knew it. He had even talked to her crèche master about it, whether it was the wrong thing to do, giving her something familiar to cling to. A kid would do just that and wouldn’t that only make it harder for her in the long run?

The Mon Cal, Master Drendlin, had made a few burbling, thoughtful sounds.

 

_She’s young and from a loving family. Considering the traumatic experiences she has had, an anchoring presence can only be good for her. It’s not unheard of for Knights finding younglings on Search to help in the transition._

 

He had patted Vorin on the shoulder warmly, and wouldn’t hear a word about how he hadn’t found shit. He had just… stumbled into this.

 

_Ah, the joys of having younglings._

_I’m not having a youngling!_

_Of course, of course._

… the man was a bastard. Through and through.

Nevertheless, no one could claim he didn’t have the best interest of his charges at heart. _Unlike some people I could name_.

Which was the rub, wasn’t it? The disagreement he had had with Master Karr had been put aside, solved for a certain measure of the word. It was no longer his business what the Masters discussed behind closed doors. All opinions had merit and a Force connection to a Dark Side user was a dangerous thing indeed.

No matter what Vorin tried to tell himself, he couldn’t deny his feelings on the matter. Letting them go was proving to be challenging.

_Stop waxing poetic, you’re pissed. You’re pissed and it’s not going away._

He was. He shouldn’t be and he was. How could he not, with what had happened? Vorin had meditated on the topic so much he was starting to wear his rug thin in strategic locations.

_Give it a rest. You’re not here for that._

The crèche-level was as bright and welcoming as ever. If he couldn't find peace here, he wouldn't find it anywhere.

Three doors down was the entrance to the domain of the crab glider-clan. Above the arch a slightly cartoonish picture of the creature had been chiselled into the stone. Somehow Vorin doubted they looked that cheerful and cute in real life.

“Knight Vorin! Come in, come in.” Master Drendlin’s joyful bubbling couldn’t quite distract from the paleness of his membranes. 

_Oh dear._

“How’s it going?”

The Mon Cal’s gular pouch expanded in a soundless sigh. “Not well.”

The Council had come to an accord only yesterday. It hadn’t been as bad as it could have been, but it had been bad enough. Tampering with a Force bond was never an easy undertaking.

Jaesa was curled up on the window bench further in the airy dormitory, staring listlessly out into the gardens. She was piled with three blankets and an adolescent Cathar was accosting her with a fourth.

“It’s good you are here. Having people around her seems to help elevate the effects.” Drendlin raised his voice, gentle but longsuffering. “Raan, don’t smother her! Dear Force, he means well, I swear. If you’ll excuse me.”

The Mon Cal ambled off to impart questionable wisdom about how exactly to wrap a human in too many layers of fluffy insulation. In all honesty, Vorin would have thought he’d put an end to that. If he was any judge the room had a cosy 27 degrees standard temperature, as was usual in Temple environments that held being more succeptible to illness than the average jedi.

_But what do I know. A sick kid needs to be wrapped up too, right?_

There were dark circles under Jaesa’s eyes and she was as pale as death. She barely reacted to all the fussing. _Aw hells. The mind healers did a number on you, didn’t they, kiddo?_

If this was what an attempt to lay groundwork to seal the bond did to her, Vorin was endlessly glad Master Karr had lost that argument.

“Hey there.”

He didn’t really expect an answer. To his surprise Jaesa unglued her bleary attention from the view. Stars and void, up close she looked even more lifeless.

Vorin scooted onto the bench, barely aware the crèche master was shooing his remaining charges elsewhere. “Not feeling so great today, huh?”

“’s cold.”

That explained the blankets, then. “Yeah, I can see that. Want a hug?”

Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. Today it seemed the answer was yes. Vorin gathered her up carefully, blankets and all. Force, but she didn’t weigh a damned thing. When he checked her forehead for a fever he almost hissed aloud in shock.

_Kriffing suns, she’s cold as ice._

“Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

_Damn it. I hope this is worth it, Grandmaster Shan. I really do._

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was unbecoming of a warrior to hide from his problems. Still the breakfast bell found Aki long out of bed, curled up in the rafters and practicing his Force cloak for all he was worth. At the rate he was going he would be a master in no time.

_Great. Just great._

He heaved a sigh. His katas were fucked up, his balance was shot and he was missing some essential parts to do a full sequence. Especially a _Jar’Kai_ sequence. Apparently figuring something out for a growing body was trickier than doing it for an adult. Which sucked. It sucked a lot. But he could have dealt with that, he wasn’t a _baby_. It wasn’t the setback.

No, it was…

Below, the sliding door opened quietly and Jasper padded into the empty practice room, glancing about with a worried frown.

Aki swallowed down a surge of bubbling, black-hearted rage.

_It’s not his fault. It isn’t._

The emotion didn’t abate. Especially because that wasn’t _true_ , it _was_ his cousin’s fault that he hovered all the time, that he wouldn’t stop shadowing him whatever he did and he needed the space, he needed to be able to kriff up and fall and get back up, not- Aki breathed in and forced himself to hold it until Jasper had given up on the Dojo in favour of the training grounds outside. His lungs burned, protested, but at least the pounding made everything blurry, including his stupid, _stupid_ feelings.

_Maybe I’ll just stay up here. For forever._

It would be better than murdering his best friend in a fit of temper because he couldn’t take his _mothering_ anymore and the Dark Side got the better of him like it hadn’t since he was an _actual_ brat.

_Aunt Leli wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t._

That only made it worse, though, that she might _have_ to step in.

It was shameful to have so little control. _Children_ needed to be policed that way. He was too old for it. He _should be_ too old for it. He should be _better._

And he wasn’t.

Maybe that was what burned the most.

Aki buried his face in his knees, grappling with the tangled ball of _things_ he couldn’t shake. Once the shock of what had happened had worn off and routine had settled in it had grown impossible to ignore.

At first it hadn’t been so bad. Not like this. Even when he was struggling, there had been something else, something brighter, to hang onto. It had been soothing and cool, an anchor against his own churning emotions, but it was growing smaller every day. Aki was sure some time soon it would disappear, quietly, as if it had never been.

He was left with the _other_ thing, with thought, feeling and memory that writhed every which way and spat near blinding surges of raw impulse at all the wrong times. The Dark Side was feeding on it, spilling over everything he did until all he could see was oily, tarry ugliness. He got upset, there was so much to get upset about, and then he got angry. Before he knew it that rage would build to a flashfire, bucking his control.

Aki couldn’t stop it. It felt as if he had broken a dam down in the tunnels of Alderaan and all he had to plug the gap were his own hands. It wasn’t enough. Nothing he had ever learned was _enough_.

He didn’t want this. He _hated_ it. That only made the snarl in his chest bigger and more tangled.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears no one would see.

_I hate **all** about this._

When his eyes finally stopped leaking and he could think about- about anything without wanting to tear someone to pieces, he wasn’t alone anymore. Aunt Leli was perched on the beam a bit further down, watching him. Aki wasn’t even surprised.

He had no idea how long she had been there. No surprise there either, her cloaking abilities were legend. They said she had assassinated a Darth once, in full view of the Council, and no one had ever caught her.

She knew all. Of course she knew he was here.

He didn’t bother wiping his face.

Somewhere outside, birds tweeted merrily. For one horrible moment Aki wanted to _crush_ them. The next that would have made him sick if he could muster the energy for anything more than emotional exhaustion.

Force, he hated _everything_ and it was _terrible_.

 _Not everything_ , a small voice whispered. It was kind of hard to hate Aunt Leli. She held herself so neutral and aloof, always unfailingly, brutally fair.

As she often did, she cut to the heart of the matter with all the delicacy of a saberstaff. “You are slipping. I expect better of you.”

Aki flinched, averting his eyes in shame. It was true. There was little else to say, yet an answer was expected. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, a hundred confused words chosen and discarded. What finally tumbled out of him was so childish he wanted to _die_.

“I don’t _need_ help!”

The birds vacated the premises in a flutter of panicked wings. Ashy satisfaction dusted his tongue, as bitter as guilt. Aunt Leli might as well have been cast from bronzium, for all the reaction she showed.

“I know.”

That... rather stopped Aki in his tracks. In just two words the cresting wave of helpless, flailing fury collapsed into confusion. “What?”

A delicately raised brow told him just what she thought of having to repeat herself. “I know. You will overcome this and it will make you stronger. It would be an insult to any warrior to be coddled in the face of a trial.”

Resentment stirred in his chest. “It _is_.”

Something about her softened in the face of his sullen response. “Jasper loves you.”

 _I know that_. That didn’t make it easier. If anything it made it _harder_. Aki grimaced.

His aunt smiled, just a little, and reached out to brush a hand over his messy hair. “His attachment to you isn’t _your_ fight.”

That was all well and good but, “He’s _making it mine_!”

Her smile widened. “Family does that.”

 _Family. Yes._ He had- that had drowned along the way, fallen out of sight, although Aki should have remembered it. _Did_ remember it. Family was the one thing you could always hold on to.

It helped, a little.

_Okay. Okay, I can do this. One step at a time. One and then another. It will get better, it has to. **I** will get better._

In the secrecy of the rafters with Aunt Leli’s fingers carding through his hair he could almost believe it.

 

 

* * *

_It should,_ Darth Andra pondered idly, _look different, shouldn’t it?_

Contrary to what she felt appropriate, Kaas City was as dreary as ever. Down, far below, people scurried through the rain in the hustle all inhabitants of Dromund Kaas adapted to sooner or later. In the distance a hint of mountain peaks beckoned the viewer.

Or a hint of ancient, malevolent, near-sentient architecture. That was always a toss-up on this planet.

Andra tipped her head back and closed her eyes, breathing in the storm. _No, it shouldn’t._

The course of the Empire might have changed, for now, but in the greater picture, what was such a thing but a drop in the ocean? Hardly enough to make a wave.

They were, all of them, mortal. Of all the Sith alive only the Emperor could argue to have risen above such limitations and even there she had her doubts.

Death claimed all, eventually. Time reached for what you wrought with spindly hands and broke it down to its component parts, for someone else to take up and make their mark.

As it should. All life was battle, a fight against that which would keep you down, those that stood in your way. A race against time itself, outrunning the end with every breath until you didn’t. So many lived in terror of the inevitable.

It always soured her mood to see Sith among that number. To be so ruled by fear... a Sith should know to embrace their own mortality.

Fleeting things were _powerful_. The knowledge of what was waiting in the wings to snatch you up made you better, it made you faster and stronger. While you lived, you burned with your will to be more, to be _alive_.

The Emperor could keep immortality, if he truly had reached it. Andra was and always had been a child of death, like her ancestors before her. She had learned the hard-won wisdom they had left behind at her Grandfather’s knee.

To fear death was foolish.

It was a constant. A companion. It was pitiless cruelty and benevolent mercy all in one. If there was nothing and no one, while you were alive there was death. Once you learned to conquer the gibbering, scurrying animal living in your hindbrain and could stare it down in all its glory, riding on its edge brought you to incomparable heights.

It was a little like the Force, that way. 

_Only that the Force likes to meddle. Death doesn’t do that._

Andra breathed through a spike of annoyance and threw it straight at the vast power that never quite left her. It reflected, singed her heart in a flash and writhed in her grasp before it dissipated. _Right back at you._

She had always had a combative relationship with the Force. Her sister had in turns laughed at her and chided her in exasperation when they were still in training. Leli was of the opinion that picking a fight with something so grand was pointless. Then as now Andra would retort that that was no reason not to let it know exactly how much it could get bent when it was pissing her off.

 

_One day it will decide to squash you and you will only have yourself to blame._

_As if. And if it does, I will go out fighting it every step of the way._

_You’re **hopeless**._

 

She didn’t hate the Force. Not often. But you could only truly hate if love was in the mix, as well. Nothing else created the same terrible depth of passion.

The Force was a wonder and a nuisance. It was made of dreams, stardust and horror, capable of more than generations of Sith had managed to unlock.

Staring out into rolling clouds and flashes of lightning, soaked through with rain Andra opened herself to its flow and let its endless power crash through her. It took her, howling as the untamed wind, and wrestled her for control.

She knew this dance by heart. Knew how to reign it in without stifling the connection, how to embrace that wild, furious thing that would kill you as surely as it would lift you to greatness, if you let it.

_Hush now. I have a quarry to run down and you will help me. That should please you, shouldn’t it? You pointed me his way, after all._

It came to heel at her command, settled with the rumble of a quiescent volcano. She almost thought she felt a lick of glee but that might well have been her own.

_Let the hunt begin._

 


End file.
